


Fluorescents

by bellamavi



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Consent, Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Eating Disorders, Happy Ending, I mean he is, Legal Peter Parker, M/M, Memories, NO rape, No Mysterio, No Underage Sex, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Quentin, Sad moments, Soft Peter, Therapy, and a therapist, and i do too, but not in that way, for real, he needs a hug, like far from home never happens because quentin is no superhero, quentin is a good guy, worried may, yeah im revising the fic and adding tags now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 09:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamavi/pseuds/bellamavi
Summary: Peter wakes up from another really bad nightmare and recalls some moments with Quentin to cheer himself up. The fact he wakes up next to Quentin because they are already happily in love goes without sayin lol.





	Fluorescents

His back was wet from sweat, his pyjamas stuck to his hot skin. When he woke up, for a brief moment he thought he peed himself right in their king sized bed. But it was just sweat, on his back, face, in his hair and between his legs. One of the worst nightmares from the past few months came back to haunt him, to wake him up with a heartburn and make it difficult to breathe. He struggled to take a deep breath for a few seconds and it made him panic. It made his partner wake up as well and get to him as soon as possible.

“What- What’s wrong?! Peter?!” Quentin grabbed him so he could stop shaking like crazy; in fact, Peter almost fell off the mattress. “Calm down. Breathe, please.”

Peter held onto his partner like he was about to lose him forever. Like he was about to lose Tony. He didn’t want to lose Quentin too, ever. He breathed in his scent as much as he could at that moment and when he felt he was really there, he was alive and with him and wasn’t going anywhere, Peter exhaled.

“Easy there, Peter. It’s alright. Just a bad dream.”

Every time after Peter calmed down, there was a waterfall of tears coming right up. Sometimes it was out of pure sadness and depression, sometimes it was because Peter was frustrated. Tired, frustrated and fed up with constant nightmares haunting him from time to time, exhausting his body and mind. How was he supposed to get healthy if he kept having these dreams and draining attacks?

Then he was reminded exactly how. It was so simple, yet so difficult to understand how did it all work. Quentin hugged him from behind, when Peter was sitting at the edge of their bed, sobbing. He was the one who helped Peter start feeling things again, giving a damn about anything and just trying.

Quentin got up and went to the kitchen. Peter learned not to panic every time he left for a moment. He was given a glass of water, took a big sip and breathed out again.

“Drink it now, Pete. You’re dehydrated.”

Peter nodded and politely drank it all. He didn’t feel like his body lacked any water, but he listened to Quentin because he was worried. He was always worried. He has been worried since they first met and Peter spilled his guts. A depressed and devastated man in grief did not care about keeping secrets. Quentin found out about his identity and challenges he had had to face already.

Lying on the bed, Peter was remembering their first session ever. He remembered aunt May talking to Dr. Beck on the phone in the living room, standing in front of the window, while Peter was sitting on the couch, his knees under his chin, hugging his legs and looking awkwardly at her. At that moment he hated Dr. Beck, he hated the fact he needed to talk to him and tell him his aunt can’t stand him anymore.

He went to Beck’s office dressed in his pyjamas, since he barely got out of bed that morning. Beck greeted him, refusing to smirk at his patient’s pink Hello Kitty pants. Peter was obviously not in the mood.

“Please sit down. You’ve got water and napkins here just in case, feel free to use.”

They were sitting across each other; Peter seemingly exhausted, didn’t even have the energy to look uncomfortable. He would fall asleep right here and right now if he could. Quentin on the other hand, was focused. He was looking at Peter, slightly frowning, analyzing his body language. It was after 10-ish minutes when he started.

“So, Mr. Parker. Or shall I call you by your name?”

“Peter” the boy nodded slowly, staring at his thighs, “Peter’s fine.”

“Okay, Peter” Quentin’s voice was smooth and calm. Peter noticed it was relaxing just listening to the man. “I want you to tell me how do you feel right now. No _i’m fines_ or _i’m terribles_. Elaborate. Use different words than when you talk to your aunt.”

Peter’s eyes welled up with tears. He knew he was going to sound like a childish emo, but in this case his words had so much more meaning.

“You will never understand any of it, Mr. Beck.”

“Just try me. I like challenges.” Quentin smiled in encouragement, which Peter saw because he lifted his gaze for a moment.

“For the record, I’m not schizophrenic. I don’t have hallucinations. I… I actually wish I did. I wish it weren’t true, what happened.”

Quentin just nodded. Didn’t say a word. “I’m not here to judge you, Peter. You probably heard that a lot. And I am going to believe you. You seem like a reasonable kid.”

Peter took a deep breath and exposed his watch wrapped along his wrist to Quentin. He hadn’t taken it off since the last time he went to class and got a panic attack.

He simply let the spider web from the watch grab a glass of water settled on a desk near the doctor. Beck’s face was in fact priceless – he frowned, his eyes bigger than ever, trying so hard not to look… shocked.

“I am, what they call me, Spider-man, sir” he let go of the glass and hid his wrist under the sleeve. “I installed a tiny web machine, to keep it simple, in this watch, and I forgot to take it off a couple of weeks ago. Thought it might be useful now.”

He waited for a moment; Quentin didn’t say a word. His gaze remained surprised and unprepared.

“I have been dead for five years. I came back, and right after that I am responsible for Tony Stark’s death. I feel guilty.”

These were only two things that made Peter a wreck over the few months. Quentin knew that, and was willing to ask for more. He knew he was stepping on a thin ice there.

“Was your contribution to Mr. Stark’s death firsthand?”

Peter frowned, still not looking at Quentin. “Like… did I just go and kill him? With my own hands?”

“Yes.”

The boy shook his head. “I, uh… I did not… He… He saved the universe. It… It consumed him. The power he used.”

“Were you able to help him in any way, to stop this? To save the universe _and_ his life?”

“N-no, I… He saved our lives, all of us, and then he already… he was… he was dying. Right in front of me” Peter’s eyes finally fell on Quentin. Tears streamed down his cheeks as they did. “Right in front me, sir. I couldn’t do anything.”

This memory hit him like a thunder in the middle of a cozy night. He thought about their first meeting because he wanted to feel better, but it did the exact opposite at first.

Peter was a very broken and lost person, and Quentin knew that. Later on at the meeting Peter’s eyes were dripping with tears basically all the time he was speaking.

“Aunt May sent me here to get better. I don’t think I ever will, so please, sir, give me one good reason to believe I’m getting better when it happens.”

He wiped his face with another napkin and took a sip of water. Quentin didn’t say a word, just listened – he saw the boy wanted to spill more of his guts at that moment. “I keep starving myself for some kind of punishment. I cannot sleep because I’m feeling hungry and guilty”, another sip, another napkin, this time to blow his nose. “My weight keeps fluctuating and I can’t remember the last time I slept through a night without the need to just shed my blood. Just like Tony did.” A longer pause after, he finished, “I’m so sick of feeling alone. No one seems to understand that pain.”

It always triggered him, recalling those words he spit in the office. Then he remembered Quentin’s last words when he was leaving the office after two hours of spilling his guts and listening to the man.

“Peter?” Quentin stopped the boy right before he left, “You’re no longer alone in your tragedy. I believe you. Tony was arrogant, but he would be proud.”

It was the first hint he ever got that Quentin knew Tony personally. It wasn’t a good hint, Peter would admit later, because everyone knew Tony was arrogant. He remembered the framed picture of him and Tony, both in expensive suits, shaking hands as the symbol of agreeing to sell Quentin’s work to Tony. They were both smiling; Peter could tell Tony’s smile was genuine. Quentin’s on the other hand, was… sad.

It was his first time at Quentin’s apartment. They were still having sessions, of course, but one day he just invited Peter for dinner, since they had a lot in common besides the therapy. Peter dressed casually, this time not in pyjamas though. When he arrived, instead of shaking hands as a greeting, they hugged. The hug was longer than the usual ones. It wasn’t the first time Peter hugged him; oh god how safe did he feel in Quentin’s strong arms.

“Feel free to explore, I’ll look at the food.” So he did explore. He went to his bedroom and seeing a king sized bed placed near the windows made him imagine how comfortable it must be to sleep there with Quentin.

He quickly got rid of this feeling and started analyzing pictures on the wall above his desk. Next to the huge The Beatles poster there was a high quality photo with Quentin holding a hand with a man. This man was Tony Stark. Peter’s eyes turned big, he leaned closer to check if his vision was correct. Indeed, he wasn’t mistaken.

Quentin knew Tony. They were probably close, coworkers, colleagues even. He knew Tony and was probably as hurt because of his death as Peter, and yet he listened to him without a word, without a bit of grief or any personal feelings. Peter started admiring him even more. He needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

The smell of food hit Peter’s nose when he entered the living room with kitchenette. There he was standing, with his back turned to Peter. The boy approached him and grabbed his forearm, making Quentin look at him immediately. Peter’s eyes were big and shiny; he almost started crying.

“Y-you knew him… You knew him all along… and didn’t even…” when the words escaped his mouth, it was much harder for Peter to stay calm. He wasn’t mad, obviously. He was shocked and all the grief has hit him again.

“Oh, you saw the… the pictures” Quentin turned off the cooker and faced him. “Are you mad?”

“No, of course I’m not, Mr. Beck, I… I’m surprised. And impressed as well, since he was your acquaintance, you must have mourned… I mean...”

“We weren’t exactly, you know, friends. I, uh… I’ll tell you everything in a minute, okay?”

Quentin turned into an awkward mess instantly. Peter offered his help with the food, so he could hear him out as soon as possible. It was truly stressing him out; they sat across each other at the table, both wanting this awkward situation to end.

“I’m sorry Peter, I... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I decided against telling you about this, because I didn’t want you to be afraid of telling me anything. I needed to keep it professional.”

“I’m not mad, Mr. Beck-”

“Quentin.”

Peter sighed a little, “Quentin. I’m not mad, really. I get it. I’m just... I don’t know, amazed. I didn’t see that coming.”

Although he did start eating, it was a very slow process. Quentin noticed the urge to ask him everything about their history, and the most important thing – did he know from the start about the kid? The new Avenger?

“When you first came to me, Peter, I didn’t know. You were just another kid named Peter in my timetable. But when you used your watch...” he paused, took a sip of tea and continued, “I understood. You were the Spider kid he would always talk about. The next Tony Stark. Once in a bar he told me about that web watch you invented, so I did quick math. I already knew why you came here, why you looked and acted like you did. But I couldn’t spill anything, it would make everything just more difficult.”

Peter was speechless. When he didn’t know what to do, he’d usually check his phone or drink his water, but this time he drank the whole tea down and started crying. He covered his mouth with one hand, the other resting on the table. Quentin gently grabbed it and squeezed.

“Hey. If you want to go home or anything, that’s okay-”

“No, no no no no, I don’t want to go home. I want to be with you” Peter shook his head and poorly wiped his tears. “I’m fine. Just a little crisis, but I’m fine.”

He gave Quentin a reassuring smile and continued eating. “You said you weren’t... friends. Were you enemies, then..?”

Quentin sighed, “No, it’s not like that. I worked for him for years. We developed some kind of relation, but I know he wouldn’t, like, die for me. And it kind of hurt, because there were times when I would die for him.”

Peter realized his therapist just confessed about his feelings for Tony Stark. The shock he felt has grown even bigger, his eyes wide open again.

“Oh... I... Did he... Did he know?” Quentin snorted, “No, he did not. He was all about Pepper. And I was fine with that. I didn’t expect anything from him, ever.”

The sadness in his voice could be heard from a mile. Peter felt it in his bones. He felt extremely sorry for Quentin. Though now he would be as devastated as Peter was; actually he was lucky it wasn’t his lover who died, just an acquaintance.

“So... how did you end up on that photo, shaking hands with him?”

“He convinced me to sell my project to him, so I could focus just on my PhD in neuropsychology. I really wanted to improve myself, so he won. I’m not saying he made me, but you could tell he would do anything for my project. Though he then named it B.A.R.F.”

Peter knew about that project, he was told about it by Tony many times. It was bizarre, to finally find out about his therapist’s relations with his biggest inspiration and father-like authority.

They finished dinner and washed the dishes together, still chatting about this whole Stark situation. Peter found out he was on Tony’s mouth most of the time, if they weren’t talking about work or every day stuff. It warmed his heart, but the pain stung a little as well.

Remembering this visit stung a little too, because Peter was sensitive and always felt like crying when thinking about how far he has come with his therapy and with getting his life back. He was standing in their bathroom now, looking at his pale face in the mirror, Quentin approaching him from behind after a while.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good” Peter answered hesitantly, “I’m revisiting some memories to calm myself down.”

“Oh. Any special examples?”

Peter turned around to face him and gently grabbed Quentin’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes, “Remember when you invited me over for a dinner? And I saw the pictures.”

“Yeah. I do” the man grinned at the memory, placing his hands on Peter’s hips and pulled him closer.

“I... I actually cried the whole evening after I came home”, and there Quentin’s smile was gone, “Though it wasn’t sadness. It was some kind of... Relief. Like I actually felt I’m going to be okay. Like I’m really not alone anymore, because you are with me. I think that was the first time the thought of being in love with you came to my mind.”

Quentin felt like he had on their first date. This time he didn’t act shyly or reassure his every movement – they both have already learned their boundaries and ways to show affection. He leaned closer and kissed Peter, hugging him, his muscles relaxed and his mind clear. Beard brushing against Peter’s soft skin, it reminded him of their first time in bed, when he could feel this beard everywhere on his body, face, neck, chest, between his legs. He remembered how much noise they made, and how the bed creaked underneath them.

“Have you done this before?”

Nervously Peter ran his hand through his hair, leaning against the kitchen counter during one of their first sleepovers at Quentin. Aunt May didn’t have any problem with their growing relationship, she was happy Peter finally started to feel alive. To act alive.

“Uh, no. I mean, I used some toys on myself back in the day, but… I lost interest after the blip.”

“It all depends on you, Pete. If you want to do it with me tonight, great. If not, well, also great. I’m going to be there for you while you prepare yourself.”

“Thank you, Quentin” Peter felt his body tense, then relax again. He was really nervous, and very thirsty for Quentin at the same time. “I… I don’t know…”

Quentin chuckled softly and decided to help him, “Do you need my opinion?”

Peter usually needed his opinion on everything. “Yeah, please.”

“So in my honest opinion, you should relax and think clearly of it. Nervousness is always there, it doesn’t matter if you want to have sex or not. It doesn’t show how much you’re ready” he took a sip of water from the bottle near him, “You should shake this feeling of concern and then decide, do you feel like doing it today or wait and prepare yourself better.”

God damn, he was _so_ smart. It immediately turned Peter on even more.

“I… I wanna do it. I want to do it with you, now.” His words were sure, his tone solid and decisive.

The contrast between the normal Quentin and the Quentin in bedroom was incredible. He took a few steps towards Peter until he was just a few inches in front of him, staring down at the boy, completely in control. He caressed his cheek and asked quietly, “Can I take you to my bed then?”

Peter closed his eyes and nodded. Quentin’s voice sent shivers down his spine. He wanted him for so long. He wanted him in every way possible, and now he could make this dream come true.

“Yes, please” he whispered, his hungry eyes never leaving Quentin’s.

When his back touched the sheets on the bed, the man took his shirt off and laid all his weight on Peter’s body; a couple of kisses later they were both naked, Quentin asking Peter for permission to touch him here and there, always reassuring Peter’s going to like what they’re about to do and he’s in good hands, he’s safe.

Indeed, Peter felt comfortable and safe while being held by Quentin, he focused all his senses on the pleasure he was given and on his partner, the sounds he made, his touch and words during sex. When he asked Quentin to do it harder, to move faster, he asked “Are you sure?” and it made the boy smile to himself. “I’m very sure, Quentin, please, just do it” he responded.

Sloppy kisses and caressing each other’s bodies were things Peter remembered the most, right after the feeling of being filled by his partner. He was so gentle, and when Peter wanted him to be rough, he was rough.

After they both reached their orgasms, rode it all out, Quentin left Peter’s body and went to the bathroom. Peter was on his back, breathing heavily with eyes closed and palms still tightened on the sheets. Then he felt a wet piece of cloth on his belly and between his legs; Quentin cleaned him up and everywhere their cum was around Peter as well.

“Let’s go under the sheets, shall we?” the man asked, suggesting Peter should probably get up to do that.

“Y-yeah, yeah.” Peter fell into his arms, tired and satisfied, a dull ache bothering his butt.

“Are you alright, Pete? How are you feeling?” Quentin mumbled in his hair.

“I’m great. Really, I... I feel good. I’m glad we did it.”

He was glad to this day they’d done it, standing with Quentin in the bathroom months later, in the middle of the night. He almost forgot about that nightmare he’d had, he was focused on his partner he loved deeply.

He stopped kissing him, “Thank you, Quentin. For everything you’ve done for me. I... I’m so grateful...”

Again, he felt his eyes welling up with tears, because he was so emotional, especially when talking about these emotions.

“Hey, you shouldn’t thank me for anything. At first it was my job to help you, then it became... My own free will. Because I love you.”

Quentin hugged him, let him cry into his chest. This time his tears were the happy ones. He was finally happy with his life. The nightmares and bad days from time to time were just something he fought with, and never lost, thanks to Quentin, who was always there to talk him out of any dark thoughts and offer him all the help in the world he could.

“Do you want to come back to bed with me?” he asked the boy when he calmed down.

“Only with you” Peter responded, looking at him with a sudden grin. “For the rest of my life.”

Quentin’s embrace was so comfortable that he would always wish it lasted forever. Warm and safe, every time he felt he could fall asleep in a moment.

That reminded him of the first time he had a sleepover at Quentin’s place. They hadn’t been engaged in any serious romantic relationship yet, it was just that one time when they spent too much time talking while drinking wine and eating snacks. Way past Peter’s usual curfew; he texted aunt May that he was sorry, and he’d get home as soon as possible, Quentin wanted to offer him a ride, but the weather was terrible. It was a storm outside, devastating the weakest trees in the neighborhood, that’s why May called him and ordered him to stay at Quentin’s. She trusted the doctor so much, after many dinners they had together to talk about Peter and other, more every-day stuff, that she was totally okay with it. And she was right. The man agreed for him to stay and said he’d take the couch. Peter didn’t want to be any trouble and blurted a suggestion they’d both sleep in bed, since “I-it’s big enough for the two of us… I mean… I didn’t mean it in any way, you know…”. It was so awkward and cute Quentin just started laughing.

“Calm down, Peter. I don’t mind sharing a bed with you, it’s just sleeping. If you don’t have any problem with that, neither do I.”

Peter exhaled deeply and nodded, “Okay, that’s what I meant. Thanks, Mr-"

“Quentin.”

“Quentin. Thanks.”

“I just hope you don’t mind me reading with the lamp turned on for a couple of hours.”

“Sure, why would I? I-I’m your guest after all” Peter giggled, grinning after that, exposing his teeth; this made Quentin’s guts twist more than ever.

_God, he’s so beautiful_.

“I’m gonna give you some sleeping clothes. They’re way too big for you, but they should be comfy enough.”

And off he went to his bedroom, looking for the clothes. Peter, on the other hand, got up and decided to clean up the table after their little drinking and eating party – two glasses, an empty bottle of wine, three empty bowls of snacks Peter had brought and all the crumbs they’d left in the process.

“Oh wow, thank you, Peter, you didn’t have to!” Quentin came back, his eyebrows risen and a little smile on his face. “Here you got everything I thought you’d need. Tell me if there’s anything more, okay?”

“Yeah, sure!” Peter nodded vigorously, feeling bits of happiness and peace crawling into his mindset, “Thank you.”

“I’ll go grab a smoke outside, if that’s okay. You can use the bathroom, or do anything you actually want to do at this point” Quentin laughed at the end of his speech since he realized that Peter is a big boy and doesn’t need instructions how to function. “Sorry. Sometimes I’m a bit too... protective? I don’t know.”

“You’re a guy who works with mentally ill people for a living, of course you’re protective. And sometimes you talk to me like I’m five” the boy turned his face to look at him and smile, marking the fact he wasn’t upset about that. He totally understood, he always did.

“Yeah. It’s hard to stop bringing work to personal life.”

He went to the balcony and closed its door to prevent the rain, the cold and the strong wind getting in. There was a lot of space and a big roof above so he didn’t get wet, though it was indeed difficult to light the cigarette. In this moment Peter finished the cleaning and decided to take a shower and change into his brand new sleeping clothes. He looked at the stuff Quentin had given him; it was so sweet to notice not only the neatly folded T-shirt, pants and a pair of boxers, but also a towel and a new toothbrush. Peter liked the way he cared about him.

After using the bathroom and changing, he walked right to Quentin’s bed. It was already made for them, just waiting for Peter to climb onto it and drown in its big, cozy sheets.

Meanwhile on the balcony, Quentin watched the storm bother his neighborhood while thinking about his relationship with Peter and all the feelings he had towards the boy. His cigarette burnt long ago, he needed a few more minutes to just stand here and think. He wasn’t doing anything wrong – Peter was in his early twenties and they had regular sessions once in three weeks, because Peter’s mental health was getting better and better. They still managed to be professional and as formal as needed during their official meetings. Their relations outside his office didn’t disturb anything and anyone.

He came back inside, closed the door and got rid of the cigarette. Realizing Peter was already in bed, probably sleeping, he went to the bathroom. It took him around thirty minutes to be ready for bed, so he was actually surprised to see Peter still on his phone, the sheets covering his whole body except his head and hands.

“Aren’t you tired? You drank more wine than I did” Quentin chuckled.

When Peter looked at him, he tried his best not to freeze and stare at Quentin’s bare chest for longer than two seconds. Of course Quentin was going to sleep, so he just dressed in his normal sleeping clothes including sweatpants only, but Peter had to lose it and stare.

And of course Quentin noticed it.

“Is it, uh, is it okay for you..?” he gestured on his body; Peter blinked and quickly moved his eyes to Quentin’s face.

“O-of course-yes!” he exclaimed a little too loud and Quentin found it unbearably adorable. “It’s your house, you dress as you please!”

“These pants are what I usually wear when I’m home alone, so yeah, sometimes I sleep in them as well” the man explained while settling himself next to Peter. “Don’t stare at your phone too much.”

Peter snorted and looked at Quentin like he did at May sometimes when she tried to lecture him on something he was way too old to be lectured on. He relaxed, reminding himself that Quentin wasn’t anything to be afraid of – he could be as awkward and as silly as he wanted to be around this man, and it wouldn’t change Quentin’s mind about him.

As he had stated before, it was time for him to read. Peter continued checking his phone, all the socials he was using, mostly incognito, so no one would stalk him later in case anyone found out about his secret identity. At some point, he stopped looking at his phone and just pretended to do so, while actually checking Quentin out. The sheets covered his lower parts only, leaving his belly and chest exposed to his view. He was a well built, strong man, subtle body hair on his skin. Luckily, Quentin didn’t noticed him staring this time, because he was too involved in the book, a thriller settled in the sixties of twentieth century.

“Didn’t know you were a smoker” suddenly came out of Peter’s mouth, making Quentin look at him. Peter blushed. “S-sorry, I didn’t wanna interrupt you-“

“Relax” the man gave him a reassuring smile, “I wouldn’t say I’m a regular smoker. Sometimes when I need to think about things, I go and grab one. No biggie though.”

When he needed to _think_ about _things?_ What did it mean? Peter didn’t want to ask further, especially since he had some ideas.

“I see” he nodded. An instant yawn attacked him, “I think I’m gonna go to sleep, at last.”

“Good idea, it’s way past your bedtime” Quentin approved, making them both chuckle, again that day.

Peter turned off the lamp on his side and buried himself in the sheets. No matter how much he begged his body not to spread across the whole mattress in his sleep, it did so anyway. He remembered waking up almost on Quentin’s chest, his arm on his belly and his leg on his legs, and his immediate panic that went along with it.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry, I-! I’m so sorry!”

The innocently sleeping man was then woken up by Peter’s loud apologies. He opened his eyes and looked at the boy, seeing zero problems in the way they slept together that night.

“Boy, calm down. You were asleep. Unconscious. Give yourself a break.”

Thinking of the way Peter panicked made him smirk months later when he recalled that morning. Quentin was totally chill with what happened, and he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Actually neither could Quentin, but he was good at forcing himself not to smile every time he thought about it.

At this point, Peter would laugh at almost every situation in which he panicked, got anxious or stressed out because of his reckless actions towards Quentin. It always meant so much to the man, he always considered them adorable. Peter was so bad at hiding his nervousness and it was obvious he’d get very nervous around Quentin sometimes.

Lying in their bed, months later as stated before, it all seemed like a beautiful dream. But it wasn’t that at all, it was Peter’s life which turned for the better thanks to the man he was hugging right now. He finally made peace with what had happened before and the nightmares that haunted him were just the remains he would get rid of in his own time. That’s what he needed – time and space to heal. And Quentin was the one who had given him both of these things.

Peter couldn’t be more grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> The title (and the piece itself, kind of) inspired by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ws-sxIL14C4  
If you listen closely you can notice Peter kind of quoted (I repeat: KIND OF) some of the lyrics during his first meeting with Quentin. It just fits so good.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one-shot, I worked on it for weeks.


End file.
